


I Dare You

by Melanie_Athene



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, M/M, Pre-Quest, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 15:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3073421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melanie_Athene/pseuds/Melanie_Athene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merry and Pippin play a game of "Dare" with their daredevil cousin.</p><p>Companion piece: <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3073589">This I Dare</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	I Dare You

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted Sept 2005 on LJ.

I had a hard-fast rule when I was a fauntling: _don't make a dare unless you are prepared to take a dare._ That being said, I think it safe to say there was nothing I would not do or say in those long ago days to prove myself the most daring hobbit in the Shire. No small few of those exploits became the stuff of local legend. I would wager the name of Frodo Baggins still brings an angry scowl to a certain Farmer Maggot's face. 

There aren't too many trees I haven't climbed, few dogs I haven't teased, no secret mushroom patch that hasn't known my nimble fingers. I've lost track of the number of times I've swum back and forth across the Brandywine. I know it in every season: every mood of slow, muddy trickle or busy, white-capped flow. I've worn a frilly pink pinafore and scarlet ribbons in my hair, streaked naked though Brandy Hall, jumped off of a barn roof or two, raided a bustling beehive and eaten things I'd rather not give much thought to. Once, I even kissed Lobelia Sackville-Baggins square on the lips. I came away from that encounter with a bruise the size of one of the Gaffer's prize 'taters on my shin, and a bitter taste in my mouth that I thought would make me ill.

But I did it. I've always done whatever was asked of me -- though few can make the same claim in return. And I've laughed for joy at the expression on the darer's face when I followed though on the dare. I know they never thought I would. But I did. Every time. And all the trouble I tumbled into meant nothing to me. The scoldings I received were sweet music to my ears. The bumps and bruises were badges of honour that I wore with pride. 

It was always so easy. It was always just a lark. A wonderful, wondrous adventure.

But, tonight, I have discovered there is something that I cannot do. 

I cannot walk the several paces from my parlour to my kitchen. I cannot step through that doorway and cross the room to where my gardener stands, innocently humming to himself as he washes dishes for me. I cannot rest my hand upon his strong, tanned arm. I cannot look him in the eye and say the words, “I love you.”

Such a simple, easy dare. Yet here I am, frozen in my chair. Defeated by that very thing I long for most.

My cousins' jolly laughter fades to silence. They eye each other in askance. Surely, it is not so terrible a chore? Merry or Freddy would do it in a heartbeat. Pippin would fling his arms around the lad and seal the declaration with a wet and sloppy kiss.

I sit here like a stone. Silent. Unmoving.

“Did you not hear me, Frodo?” Pippin queries, as the silence lengthens and shows no signs of breaking. “I dare you to--”

“I heard you,” I quietly murmur. “And I refuse.”

Consternation follows this unexpected statement: dropped jaws, widened eyes, wild sputters of disbelief. Such a flurry I have caused, but I will not be swayed.

Never has a challenge been issued that I would more like to accept. To clasp Sam's hand and feel his warm fingers firmly twine with mine. To see a gentle wonder soften his dear face. To hear those lips whisper their sweet reply...

I would give all I own for that vision to come true.

I have dreamed it every long and lonely night. I have longed for it each empty, endless day. I want him, need him, wish with all my heart that he was mine...

But not like this. Not as a farce for the enjoyment of my bored and spoiled cousins. Toying with Sam's emotions? Making him blush and squirm? Ah, that is not a game. That is serious business. How dare they suggest such a thing!

If my dream is ever to be, it will not happen while we are serenaded by braying laughter. It will be a private moment between Sam and me. A quiet recognition of the bond that grows between us day by day. An acting on the deep affection that we both know we harbour.

I can well afford the penalty this refusal costs me. The measure of my love for Samwise is not meted out in silver or gold. The loss of my reputation as Grand Master of the Dare is a trivial thing.

I calmly drop a shining stack of coins into Merry's waiting hand.

Long after the catcalls fade, long after my cousins have trooped out the smial door to seek better entertainment for the balance of the evening, I sit curled up by the fire, a contented smile on my face. 

The day will come.

I know it will. 

One day our eyes will meet, and Sam will not shyly drop his gaze.

And on that day, I shall gladly take his dare.


End file.
